Into The Future
by Hellstarz
Summary: Four hundred years after the war, the surviving elves seek only to leave Alagaesia.
1. Beneath the Leaves

Beneath the leaves

_After rather depressingly discovering that my stories are now hopelessly out-of-date and that I could comfortably write them a lot better, I thought I might as well throw something out there. Inspired by several fan fictions and my own wondering curiosity, I thought I might as well attempt to answer my own questions._

_A_ soft, sighing breeze flittered through the clearing, grasping leaves with airy hands at sending them spinning upwards, into a starry sky. They soared past two figures, bathed in shadow, one with an old, experienced and sad look in his eyes, and another with a desperate longing clutching at her expression.

Eragon Shadeslayer, now some four-hundred years old, wore a detached, grim smile, as if mocking the world around him. His stance was hunched, yet he was clothed in the finest regalia, and his face remained terrifyingly _beautiful._ There was a deadly air around him, masked by the sense of power that flooded beneath his skin. His eyes, brown orbs amongst the twilight, had a tired look adorned on them - Reflected by his stance, which stood ever so slightly hunched.

He gazed, hawk-like, at Arya Shadeslayer, the formidable and envied princess of the elves, who looked up at him, her face tilted to one side, questioning. Her hands shivered in the cold wind, and her breath fogged the air in front of her face. Her beauty was world famous, and yet she kept herself to herself. She had few friends, and yet arguably her closest stood in front of her, although his manner disturbed her, and the cold poise he looked at the world through was chilling, even for her.

They were the two figures that the world owned everything to. Between them, and the now-dead dragon Saphira, they had brought down Galbatorix, in a tide of shining steel, graceful swordplay and an undying love for one another. And yet, time had had vengeance, claiming Saphira's life, Eragon's carefree attitude, and almost entirely annihilating the Elven race. Their cities, blackened by terrible, magical fires, were now non-existent, and with the Old Heroes dead - Nasuada and Roran, the royal line had fallen into squabbling fools, loathed by the Riders, who were forced to repeatedly intervene before civil war took Alagaesia again.

It was this that Eragon found the most insulting. An entire nation and thousands of lives, sacrificed to bring about the end of the Dark King, and already the world had moved on, taking everything for granted and forgetting the Heroes of old.

Arya cared little; she had given up on the world long ago. She remained in silent torment, her love for Eragon broke her - He cared so little, and only laughed, and rebutted her when she confessed her feelings, just as she had to him, long ago.

Amongst the silence, he spoke. His voice was hushed and gravelly, and yet it rung throughout the night.

"I'm going to leave. I don't know when, but I can't stay on this land. Blood has stained the soil. Blood has stained my sword. Blood has stained my _hands,_ and as long as I remain here I will never wash myself clean. It's killing me, Arya."

She sighed, and spoke slowly and in a whispered tone. "If you leave, the elves will follow you. We linger here, as fleeting shadows of ourselves. We cannot rid ourselves of our plight. We need to go _home._ Across the sea. Perhaps there are more of us there. Perhaps there, dragons are not extinct. I may not know, but I do know one thing. If you leave, we shall follow."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. He racked his mind. _How many elves are still living? Two hundred? Two hundred and fifty? We wouldn't need many ships, at any rate._

"Very well. We sail before the end of the year."

They had seven months. Seven months to build ships capable of lasting for months at sea, stacked with food and water. With the elves so weakened, and the humans and dwarves so skeptical and uncaring, they would be forced to build the ships themselves with no external effort. The Riders could not help, they were so bound with their duties.

Arya nodded. There was no emotion in her eyes. Action and planning, for once, had distracted her. She stepped forward, efficiency in her steps, and she walked into the night. Eragon, amused, remembered vaguely that he had loved her.

_And yet, love is but a fleeting dream._ He frowned, thoughtful, until he too stepped forward, into the night.

On the very tip of Vroengard, a silent crowd stood motionless. Five hundred eyes were trained on a figure at the front, who gazed upward at the great white ship, shining in the sun, emblazoned with gold crests and a flowing sail, which gently flapped in the breeze.

Eragon turned round, eyes clouded with unexpected emotion, and gazed back at Vroengard. To the East, although he could not be sure, he thought he could see the outline of the Spine.

It mattered little. Sighing, he nodded to the assembled Elves, before marching on to the ship. Silently, they followed, brandishing belongings or makeshift tools. Arya, one of the last to board, carried a map.

Within the hour, the ship had left the shore.

Eragon groaned. Blisters scoured his back, and his hammock was rough and uncomfortable, when the shout rung across the ship.

"Land! I can see Land!"

The explosion of activity was seemingly impossible, everyone was sprinting to wherever they were bound, and Eragon leaped the stairs, all the way to the main deck, where he gazed forward, a rare joy on his features. Far away, was the faint outline of a mountain range. The Elves, even with their enhanced eyesight, could make out few features, yet one was clear - These mountains were a strange reddish rock - Nothing like the Beors or the Spine. This place was without a doubt, somewhere new.

The ship sailed onward, into the new dawn, and a faint sound, something the world had not heard for three hundred years was heard.

Eragon had thrown his head back and laughed - An honest, carefree laughter - That of a delighted child - Or an old man, who had found his youth again.

_Hate to say it, but I was a little disappointed with this, and may I end up re-writing. Either way, if you've made it this far, I sincerely thank you. Please take the time to review. A little feedback really brightens my day._


	2. Into the Dawn

Into the Dawn

_I had never really intended to continue this story, which is why the first chapter is more of an initial rush, jumping from scenes. Now I've decided to "give it a go" things should be more drawn out. Many thanks to my reviews (I'll reply at the end!)_

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Eragon's eyes were ablaze with an unusual emotion. He stood at the prow of the boat, eyes trained on the gentle curves of the land, fingers clutching the handrail so hard his knuckles had long turned white. He breathed gently - In, out, in out. Within his stomach, a knot of cold revelation stirred - _What are we sailing into?_

The Elvin convoy was composed of eight ships, all now sailing alongside each other. Eragon rode in the flagship, the_ Adurna Gata._ Each ship was decorated with a furling white sail, adorned with the sight of the Menoa tree - A final sign of respect for what they left behind. Although they had been relatively quiet, all eight ships were covered with elves, now looking forward to the horizon.

Progress was slow. It was of no fault of the sea - The waves were mainly calm, but the enormity of the task ahead. Although the first tasks were obvious - Unloading the boat, people, packing it into a suitable land caravan, the ultimate goals were almost too large to comprehend.

_We have to find land large enough to support a city - No, a _nation. _And then we have to build homes - And to do that, we have to either resort to singing trees or build, as we once built, with stones. We have to map this continent - Find if the original elves live here, identify potential threats..._

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Arya, ever so gently, touched his arm. For once, he was glad of her touch. He looked up, his eyes met hers and he nodded his thanks. But Arya did not move - She stayed there, her eyes sparkling. Eragon was frozen in place - He was confused, and the noise of the boats fell away - He and she fell through some undiscovered Limbo, never moving. And then suddenly a shout swept all that away, and once again Eragon stood on the boat, and he looked away, his cheeks colouring. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Arya turn and steady herself on the handrail.

_What was that?_

Eragon turned away, thoughts returning to the present. The land now loomed close. Although the distance was still an hour or so, he could see that the ships made for a beachhead. The land was mainly compromised of a rocky outcrop, cold and harsh against the subtle blue of the sea. On top of the rocks - Some one hundred foot high, were certainly trees and, Eragon guessed, ferns and grasses. The rock wall was formidable - They were lucky they could see the beachhead - There seemed no other breaks in the sea wall.

He frowned, remembering the siege of Vroengard, and a similar rock wall.

Eragon prayed this land was safe.

Deep down, Eragon knew that he and the elves would not be able to contemplate another war.

"Is your mother awake?" He spoke quietly. The Queen, wounded as she was, was still heavily respected. She had been broken by some cruel spell of Galbatorix's in the war, and, as a result, she slept most of the year. When she awoke, she was always in pain.

"I doubt it. Even _this-" _She gestured at the land-"could not wake her. I only wonder what her reaction will be. She doesn't even know we've left Home."

Eragon laughed - A short bark of amusement. "Hmph. Either way, she'll have to adapt when if we cure her. This place...It'll either kill us or save us, Arya. Let's hope it does the latter. And the same for her."

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She nodded, saying nothing. He sighed, and pressed forward to aid those struggling to pack boxes into the few horses and beasts-of-burden the elves had brought with them.

Arya watched him go. Her head was still swimming from the seemingly collapse of reality as she knew it when she had touched his arm. The ship swam beneath her.

_What had happened?_

She sighed, and walked backward, across the sea-blasted deck, stepping down a small flight of stairs - Dodging past elves who leapt to attention the minute they recognized her, desperately reciting the traditional greetings. She only nodded to them in return, which almost sobered them.

_Things here are different now._

She walked through the hammock-bays - Repeatedly cleaned by magic, and open the doors to her cabin. It was simplistic and efficent. She had a bed and two chests - One for the clothes she had brought with her, and the other for her possessions - Which mainly consisted of a sword, a dagger, books, a fairth, and basic chainmail. Unlike Eragon, who had discarded his armour, she had kept hers, and continued to practice swordplay. Whilst at the end of the war, his skill with a blade had outmatched hers, four hundred years of practice had long ensured her lead in their competition - Although she doubted Eragon even cared. Until he had loaded Brisingr on to the boat, he had not touched a blade for almost two hundred years.

She belted on a scabbard, and hid her dagger within her breeches. Sheathing her sword, she returned to the deck. Elves glanced at her; noting her attire, and returning to their tasks.

She had a feeling they agreed.

The land now stood incredibly close - They would hit the shallows within minutes.

Most of the elves now stood, holding their breath, apprehensive.

_What we're about to do...hasn't been done for thousands of years._

Transfixed by the land she barely registered Eragon standing beside her, with Brisingr buckled to his trousers.

The sea calmed, and the ships cleaved their way through the water, in through the sea wall.

Then came the sound - And the dawn of a new age.

A great crack shattered the silence as the _Adurna Gata _crashed into the beach. Almost trance-like, Arya walked forward, gazing down at the beach below the hull. And then, with a laugh, she leapt of the boat, landing cleanly on the beach.

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Back on the hull, Izlanzadi's eyes exploded open.

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_That's the second chapter. I will try to update often, but juggling life even with chapters as short as these is always difficult. A quick response to my reviews:_

Allysmurfy-_It's a shame Saphira is dead, but it's helped shape Eragon's personality. You'll see this more and more._

Striax Do'Urden- _Kind of half got your wish. Third chapter will be the elves entering the island._

Reader-_ By contrast, I did take your review into account - You really ought to make an account and join the fun - I can thank you properly then!_


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